His physiological preference

She straightened up and turned her face to the side.

In just a moment, he recognized the profile. The curve of the nose, the line of the chin, the shadow cast by the jawline under the light.

Is Yang Zhiyan really her?

Qin Yuzheng's hand froze on the doorknob. He closed his eyes for a moment.

I opened my eyes; the door next door was securely closed. It was just a hallucination…

This is Qin Yushang's house, left by his grandmother to his younger brother. Yushang lives in Shenzhen, and the house has always been vacant; the key is with his grandmother. How could she possibly be here!

Qin Yuzheng stared blankly at the door for a while, and then the corridor fell silent again. The motion-activated lights went out.

Darkness surged in from all directions like water, engulfing him. Qin Yuzheng stood in the darkness, his back against his door.

He was becoming increasingly frantic, even hallucinating. He thought love at first sight was all lust, but was Qin Yuzheng really such a vulgar person?

But then he remembered how confidently and poised she introduced the cheongsam. She was beautiful, and very attractive to him.

It felt like there was a blender spinning in my head, mixing all my thoughts together.

He remembered his grandmother calling him last week to pick up a cheongsam from Mufei Studio, and how she had been subtly asking him if he had found a girlfriend. He also remembered her saying on the phone that day, "Azheng, you're not young anymore, don't always be alone."

Qin Yuzheng stood in the darkness for about a minute.

Then he turned around, unlocked the door, and went inside. Without turning on the light, he walked to the sofa from memory, still wearing his suit jacket, lying on his back with one hand on his forehead, the back of his hand covering his eyes.

The effects of the alcohol hadn't worn off yet. The burning sensation in my stomach was even stronger than before, rising all the way up to my chest and throat.

Qin Yuzheng tossed and turned on the sofa, not knowing when he had fallen asleep. His shirt was wrinkled, and his tie was still hanging around his neck.

A cool night breeze blew in. Qin Yuzheng hunched his shoulders, but didn't wake up.

In his dream, it was very hot around him, the air was full of moisture, like a steamer. A woman's body was pressed against him, and through a thin layer of fabric, he could feel her warmth, her softness, and her fragrant warmth.

In his dream, he kissed her.

Her lips were as soft as flower petals, with a faint sweetness, like spring cherries.

He held her soft lips in his mouth, his tongue parting her teeth to taste the warmth of her mouth.

Her breathing became erratic, her hot breath hitting his face, her fingers gripping his shirt tightly at his chest.

He kissed her so forcefully, as if he wanted to meld her into his body. She

Her body trembled slightly, like a leaf in the wind in his arms, making his heart ache. But he couldn't stop, nor did he want to stop.

His breathing became increasingly rapid, and the air in his chest was being forced out inch by inch, as if someone had covered his mouth and nose.

He wanted to breathe, but each breath he took was only a tiny bit, never enough, never enough.

I can't breathe.

Qin Yuzheng suddenly opened his eyes.

The ceiling was white and dark, with only a sliver of light filtering through the gaps in the curtains, a hazy, indistinct light, I couldn't tell if it was from a streetlamp or because dawn was approaching.

He lay on the sofa, his shirt soaked with sweat, clinging stickily to his chest and back. His tie had come undone at some point and was hanging askew around his neck.

My nose is stuffy.

He took a breath, but it didn't go in. He took another breath, but it still didn't go in. His nasal cavity felt like it was stuffed with two wads of cotton, dry and painful. His throat also hurt, as if it had been sanded, and every time he swallowed, it burned.

Caught a cold.

He propped himself up on the sofa, feeling dizzy and lightheaded, with a thumping sound in his temples, as if two little people were drumming inside them.

He glanced down at himself; his shirt was wrinkled, and one button had popped open sometime during the night, revealing a small patch of skin on his chest. His trousers were also wrinkled.

He remembered the kiss in his dream.

So real. The temperature of her lips, her breath, the strength with which she gripped his shirt, her slightly trembling body. Every detail was crystal clear, as if etched into his mind.

Qin Yuzheng rubbed his lips with the back of his hand.

It's cold.

It was definitely hot in my dream.

He buried his face in his hands and rubbed it hard, then looked up at the sliver of light coming through the crack in the window.

His stuffy nose made his voice muffled, and he muttered a curse in a hoarse voice.

"Useless."

At 35, I'm having so many erotic dreams that I'm catching a cold. If word gets out, those guys will laugh for the rest of their lives.

He leaned back on the sofa, eyes closed, his stuffy nose forcing him to breathe through his mouth. His lips were chapped; he licked them with the tip of his tongue and tasted a metallic rust—he didn't know when he had bitten them open.

In the next room. Yang Zhiyan was too excited last night and couldn't sleep. Her body hadn't adjusted to the new environment yet.

The morning sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft golden hue on the wooden floor.

Grandma called early this morning, and Qin Yuzheng wondered what she wanted. He was a little afraid that his grandmother would urge him to get married. He could ignore everyone else, but his grandmother was the person who treated him the best, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Fortunately, Grandma is a very open-minded person. She only urges me to stop when others show off too much.

Qin Yuzheng cleared his throat.

It wasn't completely cleared. It felt like there was a handful of sand stuck in his throat, and his voice was so hoarse that he was startled for a moment when it came out.

"grandmother."

"Ah Zheng," Grandma Qin's voice came from the other end, clear and strong, "Are you going back to Shengshi Tianxi recently?"

Qin Yuzheng leaned back on the sofa, his gaze fixed on the sliver of light filtering through the curtains. He didn't answer immediately, but instead tapped his fingers twice on his knee.

"I just wanted to tell you," Grandma Qin continued without waiting for his reply, "that I've rented out the apartment next door. That way, if you go back one day and find someone living next door, you won't find it strange."

Qin Yuzheng's fingers stopped on his knee.

"It's been rented out?" His voice was even hoarser than before, but the hoarseness wasn't entirely due to a cold.

"Yes, a very nice girl." Grandma Qin said casually, "She makes cheongsams, and she learned the craft from your Grandma Mu. You should have seen her when you went to pick up your cheongsam last time, right?"

Qin Yuzheng held his phone without saying a word.

"Ah Zheng?"

"I'm here," he said. "I'm at Shengshi Tianxi right now."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Grandma Qin thought to herself, "Wow, her nose is so sensitive, she came right after smelling the scent?"

"You have a cold?" Grandma Qin asked, her voice suddenly shifting direction, quickly and naturally changing the subject. "Why does your voice sound so hoarse?"

"I drank some alcohol last night and caught a cold." Qin Yuzheng touched his forehead with the back of his hand. It wasn't hot, but his nose was very stuffy, and his voice was very nasal.

"Did you catch a cold? Did you take any medicine?"

"without."

"You," Grandma Qin's tone shifted from casual conversation to a scolding, but the scolding was tinged with concern, "you work yourself to death. Your health is the most important thing, you know? You live alone, who will take care of you if you get sick?"

Qin Yuzheng listened without refuting.

He knew his grandmother had more to say. If it were just about the house, she wouldn't have made this special phone call; a WeChat message would have sufficed.

"That girl," Grandma Qin spoke again, "is called Yang Zhiyan. She's a very nice and sensible person. When you're staying there, make sure you get along well with her."

Get along well. What does that mean? Grandma saw through him...

"Hmm," he said.

After hanging up the phone, Qin Yuzheng placed his phone on the coffee table, crossed his hands on his knees, and sat with his head down for a while.

Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the curtains, falling directly on his clasped hands.

In fact, how could Grandma Qin not know what her grandson was thinking? When Qin Yuzheng helped her bring back the cheongsam, he was unconsciously lost in thought and said several times that the handiwork was good.

Furthermore, she noticed Qin Yuzheng staring intently at a WeChat user named Zhiyan. Didn't she know the child she had raised herself? This was intrigue.

So when she first met Yang Zhiyan, she knew he was indeed an outstanding child, and she wanted to help him. As for what happened next, she left it to fate.

The hot water washed away the smell of alcohol and sweat from last night.

Steam filled the entire shower room, and a thin layer of white mist condensed on the glass door. He stood under the showerhead with his eyes closed, hot water pouring down from above, running down his brow bone, bridge of his nose, and chin.